For the First Time
by GreatPretending
Summary: Loosely based off of For the First Time by The Script, Kurt and Blaine struggle to maintain a kind and loving relationship during hard times. One-shot.


**AN:** _You can't hate me for writing one-shots more often than I update my multi-chapter fics, because those require more thought than these do. Anyway, I was listening to the radio and For the First Time by The Script came on, then _**BAM **_fic idea! So this story is based loosely off that. Hope you enjoy!_

**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing but my procrastinating mind._

* * *

><p>Kurt lay in the center of the queen-sized mattress, staring blankly at the ceiling while the tear tracks running down his cheeks, nose, and lips dried. The tears themselves had stopped a while ago, maybe an hour or two, he wasn't sure. He turned his head to the side, initially intending to stretch his stiff neck, and was hit full force with the scent of Blaine.<p>

_ Blaine_.

Kurt burst into tears once more, rolling fully onto his side and stuffing his face into the cushion.

* * *

><p>Blaine stuck his hand out to catch the bottle that was sliding down the bar.<p>

"Thanks," he mumbled, taking a sip. The bartender sauntered down towards him, wiping the counter and cracking her bubblegum loudly.

"What's a cutie like you doin' moping around here on a Friday night?" she asked. Blaine looked up at her. She was young, in her mid twenties, with stick-straight blond hair and heavy makeup. The man sighed, took another drink, and put his face in his hand.

"I got fired today," he said.

"Ouch," the girl replied. She'd seen this story come through the bar many times.

"My boss found out that I'm gay. It's not that I'm in the closet or anything, but it just never came up before, you know?" Blaine elaborated with a roll of his eyes.

"Are you serious?" The bartender—who's name was Lana, Blaine found as he looked at her name tag—glared. "That is the most frustrating reason for getting fired that I've ever heard."

"Yeah, my boyfriend didn't take it very well." Lana looked at him worriedly.

"You two get in a fight?"

"More or less, yeah," Blaine sighed. "It was pretty bad." the bottle disappeared from the counter, and he looked up in confusion.

"When was the last time you told him you loved him?" the bartender asked with a serious face. Blaine, shocked, racked his brain for the answer.

"This morning when he left for work," he replied. Lana shook her head.

"When was the last time you took his hands in yours, looked him in the eyes and told him you were _in love_ with him?" she pressed. Blaine only made a good impression of a gaping fish.

"Hand me your wallet," the girl demanded, cracking her gum again.

"Excuse me?"

"I said 'hand me your wallet'," Lana repeated, holding her hand out expectantly. Blaine found himself complying.

Lana flipped the leather open and found a photo of the man in front of her and a pale boy with chestnut hair and blue eyes. Or were they green? Gray?

The pair were sitting at a picnic table, wrapped up in scarves and gloves, with golden, red, and brown trees surrounding them.

Glancing at the credit card poking out of a pocket, the bartender found his name: Blaine Anderson.

"Alright, Blaine," Lana started, leaning over the counter on her elbows and turning the wallet to face her customer. "Look at this man, and tell me what you see." Blaine thought for a moment.

"I see immaculate, obsessively groomed hair, perfectly smooth, soft skin that gets moisturized twice daily at the very least, his favorite Marc Jacobs scarf and Prada gloves that he wont let me touch. I see the most beautiful smile in the world; the one that warms my heart every time it so much as flickers on his face. I see caring, loving, expressive eyes that can see right through the shit I'd stupidly tried feeding him these last few weeks, eyes that feel like they can see right into my soul when we wake up in the morning and he smiles that smile again." Blaine's eyes were tearing up as he drew his speech to a close. "I see the boy I fell in love with when I was sixteen, and the man I've watched him grow up to be. All of that and so much more."

Lana closed the wallet and set it down on the bar in front of him, swallowing down the lump in her throat.

"Go tell him everything you just told me," she said, and Blaine smiled a little sadly.

"I don't know if I should. I haven't exactly been there for him much lately," Blaine said. "And I don't want to screw it up and end up with him even more upset with me than he already is." Lana slapped her hand over her forehead.

"Go do as I say, and if things aren't better by the end of the night, I'll give you free beer for a month," she said seriously. Blaine laughed a little.

He didn't know what it was about this girl, maybe it was that she was so straight up with how she talked to him, or the fact that she took his drink away instead of letting him drink away his problems like he planned, even though it meant less sales for her. Either way, Blaine found himself listening to Lana's advice. Standing up, Blaine picked up his wallet and dropped her a twenty.

"I'll be taking you up on that," he said with a smirk.

"Keep me posted, sweet cheeks," she replied, smiling as Blaine gathered his coat and headed out the door. She decided she'd call her brother and his husband the next day.

* * *

><p>Kurt heard the door of the apartment open and close quietly, then the soft tinkling of glass in the kitchen. He pulled himself up to sit against the headboard as he heard familiar footsteps coming down the hall. The bedroom door opened, and Blaine moved over to the bed, not saying a word. Something was set down on the bedside table, and when Kurt finally glanced up, he found he was being offered a glass of wine, his boyfriend holding his own.<p>

Kurt took the glass carefully, crossing his legs as Blaine climbed up to sit across from him. The curly haired man crossed his legs as well so there was about a foot of space between their knees. Blaine held out his hand to his boyfriend silently, and Kurt took it a bit nervously, still not meeting his eyes as he took a sip from the wine glass.

"Kurt."

Glasz finally met hazel.

A beat.

"I love you."

Kurt bit his lip to hide the smile creeping onto his face and looked down at his glass, only to have a pair of fingers pull his chin up so that their eyes would meet again.

"Kurt, love, you really do mean the world to me," Blaine said softly, moving his hand from Kurt's chin to caress his face. He seemed to think for a second. "Scratch that, you _are_ my world. I'm sorry my boss is a homophobic douche bag, but there's nothing I can do about that. Hopefully one day he'll see the light, but for now I need you to know that I really, truly love you, and I fully believe that we can make it through this, but we need to do it together, alright?"

Kurt remained silent, but took the wine glass out of Blaine's hand and set it, along with his own, next to the bottle on the bedside table. He then turned back to look his boyfriend straight in the eye, and proceeded to tackle him down onto the mattress.

* * *

><p>Around six am, the pair were still awake, wrapped up in each other's sweat pants and shirts, watching the sun rise. They'd stayed up all night, simply cuddling, drinking cheap wine, and reminding each other of their deepest secrets and their love, and then themselves of why, exactly, the pair were not only lovers, but best friends.<p>

"We'll get through this," Kurt whispered.

He was replied with an "I love you," from Blaine as the sun broke the horizon.

* * *

><p><em>Thoughts, my loves?<em>

_Criticism = Love_

_Love, Live, Sing_


End file.
